VERY COW, VERY GOTH

Tonight is not a night to go out. When I got off the bus this evening, the first indication of that was the very drunk gentleman in a full body cow costume stumbling toward me on the sidewalk. Once he finally passed, I quietly muttered "moo" to myself. At the intersection of my block nearly everyone was dressed up for Halloween. There were many more cows.
Plus angry clowns. And goth temptresses.
Of either gender.

When I stepped out for a smoke two hours later, the intersection had gotten worse. Last night three people had thrown up within minutes of each other on the sidewalk near my building -- which, from across the street with a final pipe of the night I had been able to both see and hear, though, thankfully, no other senses were involved -- but in the next few hours there will be more.

I never get that toasted. I may have been mildly tiddly a few times this year, because I am not averse to a drink or two in good company, but never to the point of losing my lunch. The last time that happened was more than two decades ago when I had a couple of double martinis on an empty stomach, then escaped into the freezing night air. Which is when it hit me.
Those were very generous martinis.
I avoid martinis now.

I suspect that tonight crappy American beer will fuel eruptive indigestion on a massive scale down on Polk Street. Various cows, goths, daemonic beings, and fairies with neon-coloured wigs, will rue this day.


There will probably also be sexual escapades to regret.


Imagine the Venn Diagram of both these things.



It struck me today that the MAGA bomber looks and acts precisely like the love-child of Little White Nipple Guy and the Mad Irish Trumpite.
Neither of whom dropped by my work today.
If it weren't for the fact that they know and dislike each other, I would suspect that they're making another one, now that the first is in custody. Seeing as they are both men, the only way they could do that is by a Vulcan Body Meld, then rapid multiple cell meiosis.

Which of them is the Cow, which one the Gothic Slut?
Who knows, and nobody actually cares.
We don't want to watch.



A whole week of Halloween. Pod people puking.
And egg sacks all over town.




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